


A Whisper in the Night

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Heroes to Villains, The Quidditch Pitch: Going Under
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-07
Updated: 2006-09-07
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: The whisper is a soft caress that wakes Hermione from a dreamless sleep.





	A Whisper in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: **Beta:** [](http://florahart.livejournal.com/profile)[**florahart**](http://florahart.livejournal.com/)  
[](http://community.livejournal.com/100quills/profile)[ **100quills**](http://community.livejournal.com/100quills/) **prompt:** Whisper. For [](http://freetheelves2.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://freetheelves2.livejournal.com/)**freetheelves2** who inspired this one!  


* * *

_Come to me_.

Hermione wakes from a dreamless sleep. She stirs, blinking sleepily as she opens her eyes. The covers are twisted around her legs, and she frowns as she rubs the back of her hand over her mouth and tries to figure out what woke her this time. The room is unfamiliar and dark, which makes her tense and edgy. She soon wakes enough to remember where she is, to add the touches of familiarity that aren’t visible amongst the shadows, and she relaxes slightly.

This has been her home for the past three days. It’s the longest she’s stayed in one place since the summer, when they snuck away from the Burrow in the middle of the night as everyone lay sleeping off the celebration of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It’s the first real bed she’s slept in for nearly as long. Months of a sleeping bag in a small tent shared with her two best friends has made her appreciate the mattress despite the fact that it’s not much softer than the ground.

She rolls over in bed, the covers becoming even more tangled, and reaches for her wand and the watch that she left on the bedside table. “Lumos,” she whispers, closing her eyes at the sudden flash of pale light. It’s half-two, which is far too early to be awake. She sighs and extinguishes the light, putting the watch and wand back down.

In the three nights that she has spent in this house, she has not slept a single night all the way through. She wakes numerous times, always feeling as if she’s been woken by someone, and then lies awake until sleep overtakes her again. She thinks it’s the research and the fact that they’re getting close to finding another horcrux that has her mind unwilling to sleep for more than short periods of time. Harry and Ron don’t have any problems sleeping, their snores loud enough to hear even with the walls separating their rooms. She gets more focused than they do, though, and knows she needs to relax and rest. If she’s tired, she might miss something important and there’s too much at stake to make such a mistake.

Sleep proves elusive tonight. Instead of drifting back, she lies there staring at the ceiling. She closes her eyes tightly and tells herself to sleep. If she is stern enough, perhaps she’ll listen.

_I am waiting for you, Hermione._

Her eyes fly open when she hears the husky whisper. She sits up and looks around wildly. This time, she’s not half asleep and uncertain. She knows she heard a whisper. A distinct whisper that knows her name. Her door is closed so it’s not Harry or Ron, which is her original suspicion. She frowns and kicks the covers down to the bottom of the bed. Maybe she _did_ fall asleep and just didn’t realize? It’s possible but not likely.

She reaches for her wand and whispers, “Lumos,” once again. The room is empty. She sees the same peeling paint on the walls, dark drapes, and dusty furniture that she’s not yet had to touch. The house has been empty for years and isn’t used by anyone so they’ve tried to only disturb what they must. There is no running water or electricity and the old drapes are thick enough to prevent anyone from outside noticing that the house is occupied.

_I am becoming impatient, my dear. Come to me._

The whisper is soft against her ear, and she stops breathing for a moment as her grip tightens on her wand. She whirls her head around but no one is there. She knows what she heard even if it’s impossible. She’s not crazy and it’s not stress. Someone has to be there. It’s the only logical answer.

Hermione swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands up. The floor is cool beneath her feet and she shivers as she becomes used to it. She is wearing Ron’s old T-shirt and a pair of shorts she stole from Harry last time they did laundry. It’s comfortable and suitable for sharing a tent with two boys, but she feels as if she should be wearing an old-fashioned nightgown in this house.

She checks the room and finds it empty, which is unsettling. There are no charms, no signs of spells, and no explanation for the whisper that she knows now must wake her from her sleep. Since she is already up, she decides to go check the rest of the small house. She worries about her boys, even as she hears their snores, and needs to make sure they’re safe.

Ron and Harry are sharing the room across the hall. She is relieved to see that they are getting much needed rest. Harry is sleeping on his back with his mouth open, peaceful without bad dreams. Ron is cuddling a pillow and snoring lightly, not even moving when she brings her wand closer to see them. Content that they are all right, she leaves their room and closes the door.

_I am still waiting, Hermione._

The whisper has followed her into the hall. She feels a sense of unease in her belly and her body tenses as she becomes more alert. This house bothers her, has since they arrived, and it’s one more reason she is trying to find the answers they need so they can leave quickly. It’s silly, these odd feelings that she’s never put any faith in, but she can’t explain to the boys that it feels like the house has been waiting for her.

Now she hears these whispers that seem to confirm her foolish thoughts and make her want to pack and leave right now. She can’t, though, because they are so close to finding out about the next horcrux. The information they need is here, she knows, even if she can’t explain _how_ she knows. When she had seen a list of possible locations to research, she had pointed at this one and told them it was the right place to start. She thinks maybe she saw the name somewhere during her readings at Hogwarts but no longer knows if she can believe that.

She walks down the hall with her wand in front of her. She’s ready to attack should the need arise. Constant vigilance is something she has taken to heart, and it doesn’t matter that it’s late and she’s sleepy. She stops outside the door of a room that is completely empty. There wasn’t even rubbish in that room when they searched it, just spiderwebs and dust.

That makes it even more surprising to see a pale glow of light from beneath the door. She steps back and listens to her breathing, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. The door slowly swings open, which makes her take another step back. “No,” she whispers firmly.

She doesn’t understand it, but this is just a weird dream. Ron’s snores are comforting as she grips her wand so tightly that she’s surprised she’s not snapped it in two. She wants to pinch herself, to prove she’s really sleeping back in the dusty room on the hard mattress, but a part of her is scared at the possibility that it’s really happening so she hesitates to make any attempt at proving it either way.

_Come to me._

The whisper caresses her, calling to her, and she unconsciously steps closer. She steps into the room, not noticing the door softly close behind her. There is a young man standing near the fireplace. The room is furnished now and warm from the fire that burns behind him. The candlelight makes his pale skin glow and his dark hair is combed away from his handsome face. He is watching her closely, full lips curved into a smirk, and she is torn between disliking him and admiring him.

“Who are you?” she demands, frustrated at not knowing what’s happening and still not sure this isn’t a really odd dream.

He steps away from the fireplace and walks towards her, moving with a lazy grace that surprises her. He reaches his hand out and drags his finger along the curve of her jaw slowly. He’s warm and real and this isn’t a dream. He grips her chin, tilts her head back, and smiles as his other arm moves behind her to pull her closer. She wants to break free and run, to escape while she can, but she can’t look away from him and realizes, suddenly, that it’s already too late.

He lowers his head and whispers against her cheek, “Call me Tom.”

End


End file.
